(aside, this was the best I could do seeing as I've laughed myself sick... ta Leej, finely done)

Some moments later, the scarcely composed Captain Ramirez-Garcia walked, dreamlike, to the Captain's Mess. When he reached the door, he found it guarded by a large Spaniard he knew was not of his crew, for the man's facial features were horribly scarred, with one eye milky-white. "A man you do not forget easily" he thought to himself. The Spaniard's one black eye scrutinized the Captain harshly, then opened the door to the dining hall. When Ramirez-Garcia entered, he found Captain Bertoli leaning far back in her chair, pensive, her small feet crossed on the table, her hair knotted low on her neck and her hands across her chest, fingertips together in wide prayer. When his presence registered, she kicked her feet off the table in a fluid motion, and rose to greet him.
"Captain!" she said kindly, motioning towards the two empty glasses on the table, "I hope you will forgive my impudence, but I heard tell of a fine Spanish sherry on board? Are you quite well? Your head? How is she feeling?"

Ramirez-Garcia took a protective step back, shielding himself from Bertoli by standing on the other side of the table, and glaring at her like the embodiment of wounded pride. "Signore," Bertoli spoke softly. "An apology is in order, I believe. My Flora, she is fond of the jokes...What can I tell you? I thought you were she returning, and my laughter was only due to my own shock, and certainly not to any amusement at your discomfort." Bertoli bowed low, and when she rose, the Spaniard's pride, although bruised, was somewhat restored. "Please, Captain, may we share a drink?"

With a Spaniard's flourish, the Captain retrieved his pint of sherry and poured two glasses. He handed one to Bertoli, and she motioned him to a chair near the head of the table. "Captain, I am most interested in hearing how you came to be on that island. Anything you can tell me to aid my pursuit of Thornton would be most appreciated."
"Signo..uh...Captain," Ramirez-Garcia stammered, faltering only long enough to see the intensity of Bertoli's face. He quickly gathered himself and explained the circumstances of their capture and the implausible cruelty with which his men were left stranded on the island. For a moment he fancied himself home again, regaling a fine lady with tales of battle, then he saw the cold fire brewing in the Italian's face, and he reminded himself that this was no parlour story told for amusement, this was war.

"And you, Senora?" Ramirez-Garcia relaxed slightly, the pleasant audience and the sherry warming his blood, "Captain y Captain, why does this Thornton offend you so?"
Bertoli's face grew dark as she looked at the Spaniard: "He stole from me, and I will stop at nothing to find him. That is all you need to know." Ramirez-Garcia shrugged and smiled, and Bertoli fiercely continued "I will stop at nothing, and I will not be stopped, do you hear me? The small matter of my sex has no bearing, and what thoughts you have on that subject, you will keep to yourself, is that clear?" The threatening tone of her voice brought Ramirez-Garcia to attention as Bertoli leaned low across the table and whispered, "Did you happen to see the gentleman waiting just outside the door? He would be hard to miss. I found him in your Cadiz, you know. On the docks... Catching rats in his teeth for the amusement of drunken Spaniards. A word from me and that man will break you in half, provided he doesn't chew you in half first."

"Senora, you cannot think that I..."
"Not you, no. He is there because of threat from another, but I tell you only so when you meet God in heaven, you cannot tell him that you weren't warned."
At this, a sharp knock from the door and Bertoli warmly called "Enter!" The Spaniard opened the door and the dinner guests filed in to take their places at the table.